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The Cycle
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May 2007 Like Pavlovs dogs,
salavating at the ringing of each bell
Reminding ourselves that we are living
In our own private, suburbious hell
Is there anyway to get out,
That is all we want to know
Is there any signs
showing that a little spark of hope will glow
The ringing continues forever,
The cycle never ends
All of us acting like puppets,
Playing pretend
Little depressed scapegoats of the world
Hidden inside our rooms
Trying to figure out the answer
To our impending doom
Circling the world
Trying to find who we are
Trying our best to fly to the stars
Things go wrong and we cower in the corner and cry
While we are in the corner alone, we pray to die
